


Coming to My Senses

by murdur



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Magic, Sexual Content, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 00:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdur/pseuds/murdur
Summary: Sif tries a new potion that heightens her senses, and Loki discovers a wonderful benefit.





	Coming to My Senses

**Author's Note:**

> I only miss you when the sun goes down  
> Oh, your voice is my favorite sound  
> Swaying like the palm trees  
> You and me, we're poetry  
> Painting stories with our lips  
> \- _Drift_ , Alina Baraz

“This is your last chance to escape the ring and go back to your books, prince,” Sif raised her sword and pointed the tip at Loki in the bright afternoon sun. “What say you?”

“I would not wish to miss out on any new developments,” Loki shook his head. With a quick flourish of his hands, daggers appeared into his previously empty palms. “No, lady, I will see my research through to the end.”

Sif smiled, pleased, and felt the magic working through her body. This was not the first time that Loki had experimented in new battle tactics: spelling her swords, fortifying her shield, enchanting throwing dagger. Sif had never turned down an opportunity to increase her advantage in her already considerable combat skills, and her lover was ever generous in his offerings.

This potion, however, was something quite new. Promising heightened awareness in all senses, this first trial run was proving to be rather effective thus far.

Loki prowled around the edge of the training sands, his shoulders slinking as he raised his daggers higher, always moving with a feline grace. Today, to Sif it seemed as if each soft fall of his foot was amplified. Even from across the ring she could smell the fine leather of his ensemble, the wintry scent of his skin.

Her eyes still on his and before her mind caught up, Sif’s body felt a presence behind her, heard it. Tasted it. Immediately, she spun with her leg out and connected with Loki’s middle. His solid form was thrown backwards, while the apparition across the ring shimmered out.

Loki looked surprised for a moment, finding that his magic did not give him his typical advantage, but he wisely did not make a comment. Instead he spun, throwing one of his daggers out. Sif’s blood thrummed hot and it was as if in that moment the potion slowed time. Her eyes followed the trajectory of the blade easily, and she simply leaned to the side to allow it to pass her by, listening to it sing through the air.

Pausing for a moment, their eyes met. Slowly, a smirk spread across Loki’s lips, one of satisfaction and pride in his design.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Sif taunted, raising her blade again.  

Loki’s smile grew and morphed into something more devious, and if the sight made Sif’s blood pound faster in her veins it was surely not all due to the potion.

He charged her then, launching a full scale attack full of style that was both subtle and outright, but all of it vicious.

Her body felt alive and utterly electric; her eyes catching the glint of metal before his blade swung down on her, her ears tuning into the whisper of his footfalls, her tongue tasting the metallic tang of his spell before it had even left his glowing palm.  

When his boot connected with the small of her back, sending her to the hard ground, Sif learned that pain was intensified as well. Hunger too, both her battle lust and the wave of craving that always washed over whenever she challenged Loki in combat and saw his face alight with passion and fervor, teeth bared.

Their battle lasted longer than it ever had in the past, still they sparred until both were bruised and bloody, determined to see how far the potion could be pushed. In a moment of overconfidence, Sif did not react fast enough when Loki threw his body at her, expecting it to be a feint. Instead she found herself on her back, Loki’s dagger at her throat. He panted hard, holding his face just above hers.

“Do you yield?” he asked, his voice husky and low from expenditure. The vibration of it against her ear felt like a shock through her body. A caress.

The moan that left her, was enough to startle them both and Loki’s dagger wavered from her throat for only a moment. But it was long enough for Sif to roll him and regain the advantage, pinning him under her and pressing his own stolen blade to the long column of his neck.

“I believe the surrender shall be yours,” she said, acutely aware of the feeling of his body under her, between her legs.

“Yes, lady,” he replied. Again, it felt as though a finger was dragged down her spine and Sif could not stop the shiver that it brought. He looked at her curiously then from hooded eyes. “For now.”

 

* * *

  
When Sif emerged from her bathing chambers she was not surprised to find Loki lounging in her overstuffed armchair. His presence was also not unwelcome, for no matter how successfully she had been able to wash away the dirt and blood from their match, her body refused to dilute the magic within and the intensity of the potion had only seemed to grow.

Even now from across the room she could detect the minty scent of his own soap and her eyes could see every muscle work in his throat as he swallowed. There was something else she could sense as well, something that made the hair on her arms rise and her spine tingle in anticipation. She strode to stand before him.

“Do you deem your experiment a success?”

“Oh, yes,” the prince purred, watching as it sent another shiver through her. Slowly, he rose from the chair, dressed all in black with his hair slicked back, and approached. Sif stood her ground as he stepped into her space, her magicked blood rising at the challenge. “I dare say it will prove to be rewarding far beyond what either of us first imagined.”

He brought one hand languidly up to the towel that wrapped around her body and with a quick movement pulled it pool at her feet. He let his eyes drink her in, running his gaze down her long, muscular form. Perhaps if his hands had followed the same path, her trembling would stop, but her body called out for more. Sif did not know the meaning of meek and looked Loki straight in the eye as he lifted his gaze, raising a brow in question. In challenge.

Finally, he brought his hands up, letting long fingers settle at her waist. Watching her face, he slid his hands down to her hips and then up across the sensitive skin of her ribs. The elixir alighted under her skin, and when his hands took the weight of her breasts into his palms she could not stop the whimper that left her lips. Loki withdrew his touch with a _tsk._

“That won’t do,” he shook his head. “You’ll be undone far too soon.”

Sif gave a disapproving grunt at the loss of touch. Her body was so aware of his proximity, so alive she could hardly stand it. Impatient, Sif took a hold of his tunic and pulled him to her. She kissed him hard and licked her way into his mouth, tasted his kiss. It was unlike anything she had every experienced, all of her senses drinking him in. She would devour him.

“So eager,” Loki pulled away from her and gave a low laugh. The sound of it infuriated and aroused her. She was always quick to anger but now with her blood running hot from the draught she felt the heat stronger.

“Loki,” she warned. But he only grinned and untangled her grip from his shirt. He stepped to the side and prowled around her, circling once while pondering her. He stopped when his body was positioned behind her. His hands lightly found her hips again and his voice dropped into her ear.

“You may have had upper hand in the training yard,” he murmured. “But I do wonder what would happen if you relinquished that control.”

His voice had always been pleasing, sensual. She had once told him that she would listen to him recite even the driest text just to enjoy the sound of his voice. It had been a mistake to admit, because of course his ego had swelled to unbearable size, and he had used that knowledge as a weapon, wooing her into his bed on multiple occasions by whispering love poems into her ear.

“Would you like to try?” he let his lips brush against the shell of her ear. A curl of desire sank low inside of her, heat blooming in her belly. Her mind recoiled against the idea of surrender, but her senses welcomed the challenge with a racing heart. She could only nod.

“Good,” the approval in his voice, the promise, did nothing to slow her pulse. He guided her forward and then spun their bodies, pulling her down into the soft, large chair after him. She landed hard in his lap and did not stop herself from leaning back against his body. She could feel the sleek leather and silk cool against her, felt each place on her body where cold metal pressed into her warm skin. She tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder.

“Now, touch and taste,” he pondered and snaked two hands around her waist and to her thighs, pulling her legs open, “those senses are far too obvious. Smell and sight wouldn’t do.” It was as if his potion reacted to his voice, his touch, making heat flare within her.

“But sound, hmm,” he hummed in thought and dropped his lips to her ear once more. It felt like fingers running up her spine. “Tell me, do you think I could bring you off with my voice alone?”

The way he left the question hanging in the air made her tingle with anticipation.

“You can try,” Sif replied. She could feel him smile against her temple. Digging her nails into the soft arms of the chair, she accepted the challenge, bracing herself against the coming onslaught.

“Shall we engage in some flyting?” he murmured against her ear. “Or perhaps you prefer I recite your favorite poem? The one about love and lust that always sends you into my bed.”

His voice was smooth, the deep timber of it resonated within her, sinking deep into her belly, her bones.

“I do wonder what would be said if it was discovered that the Goddess of War,” his voice was hushed, confidential, the words a sibilant hiss blown against her skin, “preferred the company of _Wicked_ Loki." The devious, sumptuous way he enunciated the word made her shake.

“What would Asgard do if they found out how well this trickster was acquainted with the realm’s favorite warrior. How _intimately._ ” He pitched his voice low, the vibration humming against her ear, and echoing lower between her legs.

Lust made his voice husky and it was like velvet against her skin. She inhaled sharply and squirmed in his lap, resisting the urge to sink her own fingers where she ached. She dug her nails deeper into the fabric of the chair.

“Would they be scandalized to know that, full of battle lust,” his voice was a growl, gravel that bumped erotically against the knobs of her spine, “she comes running to the second prince to strip her of her leathers and delight in Asgard’s victories?”

His voice was like a fingers on her skin, and she throbbed with want, unable to slow her panting breath with the potion running hot as fire, his words teasing. He nudged his nose against her temple, his tongue and his breath darting out to skim the shell of her ear.

“ _Silvertongue,_ ” he whispered, obscenely dragging the word out. “Do they know how much the lady enjoys to have it buried in her cunt?” It was nearly too much, like molten lava in her gut, pulsing between her legs.

“Keep talking,” she moaned, a heaviness growing in her breath. Loki gave a low laugh and let one hand wander higher up her thigh, skimming against her lips and pressing against her clit.

“Oh, so wet for me,” he purred and she shuddered at his voice, his touch. “Do they know what I would give to spend every day doing this? To have you undone and trembling in my arms. How you are everything to me?”

 _Close._ She was so close. His voice, his words were all she wanted, needed.

“My Lady Sif,” the sound of her name said so lowly, possessively, was like a burst of heat and Sif came with a small cry, closing her thighs and bucking against his hand. It was the most intense orgasm that she had ever experienced, all of her senses reveling in the wave after wave of pleasure that overtook her. One of her hands left the chair and found his hair, holding his voice, his mouth to her as her moans turned to gasps and faded into sighs.

When she came back to herself, sagging against him in the chair, her body had never felt so relaxed, so sated. However, she could feel his self satisfied, smug smirk twisting his lips.

“Oh, shut up,” she raised one hand to weakly hit his shoulder.

“Now, lady,” he laughed. “Only moments ago you were begging me to speak. How can I ever trust your word?” His voice was like a soothing touch now, but it still made her shiver.

“You can trust my fists if you do not _shut up_.” She stifled a yawn. Her eyelids had never felt so heavy, her body so exhausted. “But for now, help me to bed and we shall celebrate the success your latest experiment again in the morning.” Loki picked her loose-limbed form up easily and made his way towards her plush bed.

“Sounds wonderful.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I was given a prompt over on tumblr for Loki to get Sif off with only his voice. Heavily inspired by [you're under my skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/272836) by magisterequitum and [Tom Hiddleston's Jaguar ads](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGas3e7p_9A). Good lord, that man's voice.


End file.
